


No Good

by Chaos_Kultist (PrimarchOmegon)



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Alternate Scene, Azkaellon gets disarmed, Curze has too much fun with this, Dirty Talk, M/M, Missing Scene, The Author Regrets Nothing, twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/Chaos_Kultist
Summary: Alternate/missing scene describing how and when Azkaellon gets... disarmed by Curze. Because when put up against the Lord of the Night, one single Astartes is going be be about as helpless as a small child, no matter if he commands the Sanguinary Guard.I don't know if such a scene exists canon-wise, since I happen to have not read the book that may or may not contain said scene. However, it damn well does now and it's probably not what any of the writers had in mind.





	No Good

He didn’t exactly know how long this had been going for, perhaps it had been mere minutes, but it might as well been hours by now.  And every second of it strained him and his very essence. There was no excuse for what he had gotten himself into, it had been his own fault. But the way this… creature had stained his pride with gaining access to the palace so easily made his blood boil. And as much as he should’ve known better, he had chased after it with help from those whom had likewise felt offended by the mere presence of such a threat. The difference between them and him was, however, that he was still alive.  
Azkaellon did not mourn their loss much. Every man was expendable when it came to their gene-father’s well-being. He just hoped he wouldn’t have the honours of finding them stapled to a wall like the last one he had seen. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the only reason he had been able to identify the man was because the face had been left completely intact. It did that with all of them. It wanted everyone to know exactly whom had been slaughtered and sometimes, there was even a visible order. It was mocking them with taking its time.  
  
Something almost lazily scraped across his golden armour and it took him quite a lot of concentration to not turn around. Others often referred to him as paranoid for always expecting a blade behind someone’s back, though this time, the suspicion of something being a distraction had saved him from being decapitated with one clean swing.  
“Show yourself!”, he yelled, not even able to get his weapon up in time before darkness had once again swallowed the thing that was hunting him. Rolling out of the way had covered him in blood, it was as if it seeped from the carpet on the ground itself. He should have not dispatched the rest of the Guard first, he should’ve led them. If he only had, then their remains would have not stained the floor red…  
Azkaellon shook his head lightly finding back to the matter at hand. They had died protecting the most important thing their legion had to offer, it was a good death. And despite what this creature tried to insist on, he would not feel guilty about checking on his father first and then follow his men down the corridor to join the hunt.  
  
“Come on!” Only manic laughter answered him from the darkness. Through the tall walls and the way the room had been designed, it could have come from every direction. There was no way to pinpoint it, however, that might have been a distraction as well. He had no doubts that by the time he’d located where it had come from, he would march right into an ambush. All of this had felt like a trap from the start, why else single him out like this. He was well aware that as Captain of the Sanguinary Guard, he made a good target. The relationship to his primarch was strong and based on mutual sympathy, his Lord trusted him. Azkaellon was important to him. And that’s what made him such enjoyable prey, he was valued emotionally.  
“Show yourself!”, Azkaellon demanded once again, keeping himself near a wall while advancing further into the room. Leaving his back unwatched in an environment with only one exit was not a particularly wise thing to do.  
Several tables had been completely destroyed by bodies falling onto them or heavy weaponry, though nothing had been fired in here. There were no craters, nor bolt-shells or empty magazines anywhere in the room. It was even more frustrating to him that his men had died without being able to give off a single shot, than their deaths as a whole.  
“ _Show yourself…!_ ”, a voice echoed within the room, mocking the fact that Azkaellon wasn’t able to locate its owner on his own with every syllable. Where did it hide? And what made it think that it had the luxury of time to toy with him like this? Then again, the blood on some of these tables and the carpet wasn’t even dry yet. It must have only been a minute or two before he had arrived here, yet every second had slowed down to the length of an hour, it seemed.  
“ _Show yourself…!_ ” Something like a piece of cloth brushed against his helmetless face, though he kept ignoring his instincts to turn. There hadn’t been enough time to put one on, since he had been constantly on edge for the duration of this spiteful charade and he wasn’t going to do it now, of all times.  
  
“As you wish.” A split second. That was all Azkaellon had to raise his sword in order to deflect the claws plunging down on him from above. Much to his surprise, the weight didn’t push him to his knees, despite needing to support the blade with both of his hands, however, there was another thing that made him suspicious. The sparks. There were not nearly enough sparks where metal met metal, this had not been a serious attack either. And somehow, Azkaellon had the feeling that if he was to truly get his opponent to stop playing with him, he wouldn’t be able to see it coming to begin with.  
He tried to pull back, tried to free his blade from where it was lodged in between the claws, but it was no use. Either he’d give up his only close combat weapon or stand his ground, uselessly trying to rut it around. And suddenly, he was painfully aware of the fact that there was a whole body attached to the arm and claws as well.  
It was in range. If he could only spare a hand to reach for his bolter, he could shoot it point blank where it was covering on top of a wrecked column above him. Though as if it had read his thoughts, it twisted its arm and the hilt of his sword slipped out of his hand in an agonizingly desperate struggle to retain his grip. It cackled at that, swinging itself from the column onto the ground before him. Too much distance was travelled at too less time for him to even reach for his long range weapon before it was right in front of him.  
“I expected a little more strength in those arms of yours…”, it said with a somewhat disappointed tone, which somehow brought his mind to a rest all of a sudden. There was no doubt that he would die here and now. And knowing that, he was determined to put up as much of a fight as he could, despite having the wall in his back.  
The first swing came as fast as he had expected, however, the mere fact that he had been able to predict it, made him suspicious. And being able to catch both of its hands was even more off-putting. It was still playing with him, luring him into thinking there was a chance to get out alive.  
  
_Bait._  
It was all just bait. But his body had reacted automatically when he had lost focus for a split second. His fingers had only narrowly missed the claws by catching its gauntlets, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if that was part of it as well. If Azkaellon would let go of them now, he’d be a disappointing thing to play with and most likely find his death sooner than he had thought. But as long as they remained like this, he could buy a little more time.  
“Are you sure you want to take this bet?” It sounded honestly amused. As if it was somewhat impressed he had decided to take this route. And if it could still be impressed, there was a chance that it could be surprised as well.  
“I’m willing to take any bet against you, monster-” At least he had the satisfaction of saying that before all his pushing and attempts to shove the other forward were mercilessly dwarfed by a being much greater than him. His strength reduced to the one of a mere child fighting against a lion, all resistance torn down in its entirety within the blink of an eye. A gasp was all that left his mouth when his hands were pushed back with a deadly patience, one smashed into the wall behind him, the other held in an almost gentle grip. Azkaellon felt his arm break, tendons ripping and bones shattering upon impact and being driven into the concrete. Yet, the only thought that crossed his mind was how it was now useless to him.  
“ _You lost_.” For the first time, he brought his glance up to its face. Thin, pale skin stretched across its skull, teeth like needles in an almost lipless mouth and eyes like the darkest abyss. At one point, he would have had to bow before this thing. However, these times were long over and what was left of the creature that had once been a primarch was nothing but an empty shell, driven by madness. There was no reason to hang onto formalities or titles any longer, it had been declared prey. That was all it would ever be from now on.  
  
“You’re not very good at what you do, are you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have made it so easy for me. Or perhaps…” It grinned at him, unnaturally wide and obviously amused by its own trail of thoughts.  
“Perhaps you _allowed_ me to come this far. Perhaps that was your intention from the start.” As much as he knew that this accusation was unjust, it still enraged him that someone even reached such a conclusion. Although it was coming out of the mouth of a wretched, treacherous bastard.  
“Where is the last body?”, he managed to get out between clenched teeth. They were one man short, there was still a corpse missing to make the list complete.  
“So you already assume I killed him? If he could still hear that, he’d be so disappointed in you.”  
“Where is he.”  
“Such a shame too, he was trying to buy himself time until you’d arrive to save him. He was the last one left and I was thorough with him.”  
“Where is his damn body, answer me!” The only thing he got in return was a badly concealed chuckle and hot breath on his face. The weight on his arms pushed him further against the stone in his back when the creature leaned forward to bow its head down.  
“Do you want to know what he said before he choked on his own blood?” He knew that his answer wouldn’t matter, yet he felt like it would soil his dignity to not reply at all.  
“No.”  
“He told me you’d get me for this. That their deaths had been of use. Such a pointless thing to say if this is how things turn out… Isn’t that right, _First Commander Azkaellon_?” This time, he bit back any words that might have slipped out of his mouth by accident. It was merely trying to play with him, he wouldn’t fall for that. Yet, something about its behaviour was strange.  
The way it held him was odd, to say the least. If he’d squirm hard enough, he would have probably been able to free himself, the only reason why he couldn’t kick it in the first place was that they were too close to each other and the wall in his back. And why did it hold him to begin with instead of just killing him and be done with it?  
“Can you imagine what it takes to make one of you cry out in agony? It’s a well-rewarded process-” Azkaellon spat in its face. It was the only thing he had left in this situation and words weren’t sufficient enough anymore. Unluckily for him, it merely laughed at that.  
  
“You can’t degrade me like this, Azkaellon… I can’t be degraded by someone as shameful as you.”, it purred. At least it let go of his broken arm to wipe its face, however, only to feed on his disgusted expression when it licked the spit off its fingers.  
“How does it feel? You think of me as such a degenerate, wretched thing and yet...” Armoured fingers closed around his throat and neck, forcing is head to the side so that he couldn’t stare it down any longer.  
“Yet you don’t even try to defend yourself. I’ve given you plenty of time to free yourself, but it seems I was correct.” As soon as the whispering near his ear ceased, he froze, all thoughts and feelings suddenly vanishing from his mind.  
“You like being pinned by a _degenerate_ such as me, don’t you? Why else would you keep so perfectly still and obedient like you did.”  
“No…”  
“Are you enjoying yourself?”  
“No!” However, when Azkaellon finally managed to struggle against the grip that held him, it tightened a considerable amount. There was no way he’d be let go now and Azkaellon knew that. But the missed chance of actually taking an advantage still made his blood boil and he bucked up against the hand around his throat.  
“You will. I’m going to break you, over and over again until you will.” It hesitated for a split second.  
“And then, I might even return you to my dearest brother. If you’re even capable of still looking at him, that is.”  
“You’re a disgrace to all-”  
“Which makes it even more shameful that you like this. What would your father think of you?” Azkaellon felt himself tremble in disgust when a considerably bigger knee slit between his legs. It was not about the actual thing, he knew that. It was because of the statement this action carried. An establishment of dominance, a sadistic act of humiliation in order to tear him down. It had promised him as much and now it was starting to deliver, no matter how much he tried to fight back.  
“Azkaellon…”, it purred next to his ear, snickering lightly.  
  
“You’re not even trying to actually defend yourself, are you? You know I’m going to strip you of everything you got. Pride, honour, dignity… You know I’ll take it all until there is nothing left of you but a broken, pathetic mess. And yet you don’t seem to be bothered by that enough to make an effort to free yourself.”  
“Lies!”  
“Lies?” An unwilling grunt escaped his mouth when it bit down on the unprotected part of his neck. Sharp teeth dug into his flesh like a hot knife into butter and his hand twitched in the other’s grip, trying to at least put up some kind of struggle.  
“You’re still fighting me like a whore that wants to feel helpless and degraded while getting fucked. Does my brother know you have no shame? Does he know he entrusted his life to someone that gets off to-”  
“Kill me already! Isn’t that what you wanted?” Again, it paused, although that was purely acting.  
“I would like you to live. Live and remember this for all eternity until you curse your own existence. I want my brother to see it in your eyes every time you share a glance.” The hand around his throat disappeared and grabbed his wrist again.  
“However, it seems we’re out of time. You were entertaining, nevertheless, I should disarm you properly.” With a wet, horrid noise he had heard so often in his life, yet never experienced to its fullest, he felt his muscles and skin tear when it ripped his arm off at the elbow; where it had been broken.  
And this time, he screamed.  
Shredded bones dangled from severed tendons while his body tried to compensate and flooded his bloodstream with pain suppressants.  
“I’ll take this as a parting gift.” And just like that, it was gone. Within the blink of an eye, he was alone again, sacking down on the wall and soiled with his own blood and that of his brothers. It seemed like hours until there were arms lifting him up again all of a sudden, voices frantically asking him questions and hands patting his back. Yet all Azkaellon felt before the blood loss eventually claimed his consciousness, was shame. And deep down, he had the suspicion that it would never leave him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions, praise and comments are very welcome to this individual and it hereby expresses its desire for your opinion, most delicious reader!


End file.
